Baby Blue
by whyamisoclever
Summary: They've been here before, but this time the baby on the other side of the glass isn't Chief Vick's.  Shassie fluff.


**Disclaimer:** Psych and its characters belong to me in no way, shape, or form.

**A/N:** Not as cheesy as the title indicates. Probably. Super fluffy, though. Inspired (and mirrored, to an extent, at the beginning) by one of the last scenes of 1x08, "Shawn vs. the Red Phantom".

"And_ then_," Shawn says, leaning against the glass, "the mayor shook my hand, and he suggested – nay, insisted! – that I put in an appearance at a sort of, you know, celebratory dance-y thing. What could I say? He promised that there would be pineapple and a host of ladies with whom I could boogie the night away."

Lassie wants to glare at him, Shawn can tell, but he's not trying nearly hard enough to wipe that sort of contended smile off his face and get any real, believable effect out of it.

"But your story about cutting the cord was good too," Shawn says, grinning at him. He reaches out and smoothes down the edges of Lassie's collar, grinning harder when his hands aren't batted away. "Lots of drama, suspense, you know, et cetera et cetera. And of course the twist ending; I'm sure no one was expecting that." He aims a look at Lassie that's supposed to convey seriousness, or perhaps a sort of sage wisdom, but he can't really keep the smile off his own face, either.

"At least no one can say I fainted this time," Lassie mutters, looking away, through the glass.

"You did maintain a very manly sense of calm and a surprisingly supportive demeanor," Shawn offers. Well, from what he heard, at least; Shawn was on a very important ice chip-related mission at the critical time. "A lesson learned, or did you always know better than to shout in your sister's face like, how did Chief put it, a cracked-out drill sergeant?"

Lassie shifts next to him, somewhere between embarrassed and pleased, and rubs the hair at the back of his neck. "If you'd gotten back earlier, they might have let you cut the cord."

"Maybe next time," Shawn says breezily, and Lassie starts at that (because it really is too soon), but he looks happy anyway. Shawn reaches out and clamps a hand around his wrist, giving him a couple of sound pats on the back of his hand. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. _I_ think you're a hero."

Lassie isn't at his sharpest with words at the moment and he doesn't look like he's got it in him to muster up a reply right away, anyhow. He looks slightly dazed as he shifts his gaze from Shawn to the nursery on the other side of the window. "Think you can tell which one it is this time, Psychic?"

"Lassie, you know how sexy it is when you call me that, right?"

But Lassie's stubborn and ignores the flattery. "I'm not going to tell you," he says, crossing his arms.

Shawn raises his fingers to his temples and looks seriously out over the sea of babies on the other side of the glass. "The spirits tell me," he begins.

"Cut the act," Lassie says, raising an eyebrow. Shawn kind of hopes the kid inherited those, actually.

"Fine," Shawn says, throwing his hands up. He's known which one it was all along. Though he thinks there's probably an evil baby in here somewhere, should he need an excuse for the muddling of his psychic powers. "It's the one with the ruggedly handsome features and strong Irish hairline," he says, spreading his hands out in front of him, palms up, as if to say 'case closed'.

Lassie doesn't look convinced. "Point to him."

"You're right, I'm cheating," Shawn admits, looking out at the babies again. He points. "That one. Anyway, the real question is, which side is really responsible for the rugged good looks?"

Lassie looks a little surprised, like he's not used to witnessing Shawn's prodigious observational skills in practice on a regular basis. "How could you tell?"

"Lassie, please," Shawn says, though he thinks he must have some idea. "It says 'Baby Spencer' right on the front."

"What?" Lassie shouts, sounding betrayed, pressing his nose up the glass and squinting at the name card.

"I'm joking," Shawn says, and Lassie calms momentarily. "It's Spenciter."

Lassie's eyes pin him. "Spencer," he says dangerously.

"No, no, I already tried that." Shawn taps Lassie on the forehead and the detective's mouth thins. "What about…Lassencer?"

Lassie seizes Shawn's shoulder and looks at him in a manner he usually reserves for perps, like he's deciding between roughing him up as he puts on the cuffs or "accidentally" slamming his head into the side of the door as he pushes him into the back of the Crown Vic.

"I really think we should call him Timmy," Shawn says earnestly.

"No," Lassie says.

"I've been scouring real estate listings in the News-Press for properties with wells, though," Shawn presses. "It'd be perfect. I'm sure you'd be all loyal and protective if little Timmy ever needed rescuing."

"Well, yeah," Lassie concedes, loosening his grip on Shawn's shoulder and letting his face soften. His eyes harden again, though, this time with resolve, and he jabs a finger in Shawn's chest. "But his name's not Timmy."

"Fair enough," Shawn says. He pauses. "I feel we probably should have put some more thought into this naming thing before he was born."

Lassie grunts noncommittally. "There's plenty of time."

"Sure," Shawn says. He looks out at the babies again – well, really, he's just looking at the one – and locks eyes. He'd been sleeping before, but now his eyes are open, and they're focused right on him, he's sure of it. Like laser beams. "Lassie," Shawn whispers, not turning his head, afraid to break the moment. "Come here."

"I am here," Lassie says, clearly not getting it, so Shawn reaches blindly behind himself and fists a hand in Lassie's tie when he finds it, yanking him closer.

"Lassie, dude," Shawn hisses. Their faces are pressed together at the cheek, Shawn white-knuckling Lassie's tie while Lassie grips Shawn's hip to steady himself. "He's _looking_ at me."

A slow smile forms on Lassie's face; Shawn can feel it. Lassie keeps his voice low when he speaks, because this is totally a sacred moment they're experiencing right now. "He knows his dad."

"Must have inherited the psychic gene," Shawn whispers back.

The hand on Shawn's hip tightens. "You don't – you're not – shut up, Spencer," Lassie stutters. "You're ridiculous."

"I didn't say he got it from me. Maybe it's from your side."

Lassie sighs in his ear. "Yeah, but. Technically I'm - well, you know. He's only got a quarter of my genes."

Shawn gives a none-too-gracious pull on the tie still in his hand. "No! Now _you_ shut up, Lassie." Shawn turns to look at him and Lassie's eyes meet his warily. "Look, I know you're worried that your sister didn't pass on the sharp-shooter gene, but come on, look at who you've got as insurance on that bad boy. Now, if we're talking about your signature shade-and-fraud, I can't guarantee that that was passed along, but ask yourself this: is that really a bad thing?"

"Right now I'm asking myself where in the hell you got that pronunciation of schadenfreude, to be honest."

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn insists.

"Shawn," Lassie says, a sort of pleading edge to his voice, not that he'd ever admit it. His eyes are really blue. It would be a shame if the kid didn't get those, actually.

"Carlton," Shawn shoots back, his tone even. He leans in and presses a kiss to Lassie's temple. "Hey. You're his dad, too."

Lassie doesn't say anything, but he pulls Shawn closer, wrapping him up in his arms.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Shawn says, lips brushing against the shell of Lassie's ear as he speaks.

"Hmmm," Lassie grunts.

"He's looking at _you_ now."

There's really no way of telling, actually; he's too far away and there's a wall of glass between them. But that doesn't matter. Their son's eyes are open, and they're definitely Lassie-blue.

**A/N:** Because I realize that I totally left out the most important part of the story: they named him Patrick. Patrick August Lassiter.

Also, logistically, if it wasn't 100% clear (I just didn't want to break the mood by forcing an explicit explanation into the story), the kid is biologically Shawn's and Lassie's sister's and she was surrogate for them, too.

Reviews and concrit are, of course, awesome and cherished and absolutely appreciated!


End file.
